Outdoor Admiration

Back in my Washington Alpine Lakes hiking days, my biggest concern was the potential of being stalked by a cougar. The odds were low, but the risk was high. The common wisdom was that you would never know what hit you until it was too late. Even so, I was in the habit of hiking with a Glock 45, which I figured was better than no protection. It was also protection against two-legged danger. Of course, hiking with a firearm in Washington led to some interesting encounters. One beautiful summer day, I was hiking up to Snow Lake, and when I arrived, there was a group of four younger hikers. I was wearing my outdoor shirt, which I had sewn the old Washington Lakes logo onto. One of the hikers looked at me, looked at my gun, fishing gear, and logo, and asked me, “Are you surveying the lake?” He obviously thought I was some type of official person. I replied, “No, just up here for some fishing.” The group had puzzled and worried looks on their faces as I went on my way. Guns were and are not a common sight on the hiking trails in Washington.

Fast forward twenty years and a move to Montana, where it is normal to be hiking with a holstered gun. And bear spray, and a knife. Because, in case you hadn’t heard, the last few years have seen a dramatic growth in black and grizzly bear populations in Montana, and the exodus of bears from the high mountain country to the plains of central Montana, where they once roamed freely (you can read about Merriweather Lewis’s famous encounter with a grizzly at the Great Falls of the Missouri). 
Washington and Idaho are experiencing similar increases, not to mention growing wolf populations. The North Cascade Mountain range has grizzly bears again. Unfortunately, many casual hikers are sadly ignorant of the danger of wildlife encounters. 

I don’t want to discourage anglers from exploring these beautiful, remote locations where it is possible to spend a day fishing and not see another angler or person. The desire to fish in secluded places means accepting the risks and being prepared. Going alone increases that risk. At the very least, you need to hike with the “ten essentials”, which you can find by doing a simple internet search. In addition, I now always bring bear spray and my gun. I tell my wife the general area I’ll be in, and if my plans change, I will text her the updated location I’m going to. 

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Time of year plays an important role in bear encounters, including the potential for lethal attacks. Bears coming out of hibernation are hungry, and female bears have their cubs with them, which puts them in protection mode. Spring is an extremely dangerous time of the year to be out and about, and extra caution is required. It’s not the best time for solo trips.
That said, I’m at the stage of life where I am semi-retired, and spring fishing is just a given. This year I’ve been exploring segments of the Missouri River in my jet boat, and often it’s just me and my dog, Duke.  Obviously, being in a boat affords a higher level of safety, but there are times when we’ll pull up on shore to stretch our legs. Looking for spots that are open rather than brush-filled is the first thing to do. Having a dog that comes when called and doesn’t wander is darn important, too!
OK, you’re saying, spring is dangerous with bears; I’ll wait until summer comes. Not so fast, buddy. With the warm temperatures comes Indiana Jones’ worst fear: snakes. Washington, Idaho, Oregon, and Montana all have their fair share of snakes. The kind that rattle are particularly worrisome for me, not to mention my dog. 

On a recent outing to “Widow’s Coulee” on the Missouri, Duke and I were wrapping up a productive day of fishing for walleye and smallmouth bass. It was a day in the low eighties, and by 2 PM, it was time to get Duke into some shade and call it a day. Securing my boat onto the trailer, I noticed some movement on my left. Coming out of the grass was a big old snake, easily 3-4 feet long. My first reaction was to break the Second Commandment, something I haven’t done in some time (I need to get to confession for that…). My second reaction was to walk around the far side of the boat, get in the truck, and run the snake over. I went back to investigate and never found the snake, so he’s probably waiting for the next angler to come along and scare the heck out of.

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By the way, snakes can swim. Last year, on a different stretch of the Mo, I was anchored up and watched as a snake swam by our boat and onto shore. I’m still not sure what to do in the case of a snake on the boat situation, and I hope to never have to figure it out! Duke has received the rattlesnake vaccine, although I need to get him to a snake aversion training class as well. 

Snakes, wolves, lions, bears – have I dissuaded you from backcountry adventures? I hope not. Our wild areas offer a unique and special experience to anglers. And sadly, more are disappearing every year. Personally, I’ve weighed up the risks and decided the experience is worth it. The quiet, peace, and solitude are something that feeds my soul, bringing me closer to my Creator. 
I hope you’ll do the math and decide to venture on the roads less travelled. May your fishing adventures bring you the peace we all yearn for.

Of the many rivers in the beautiful state of Washington, the Sol Duc is one that can manage to keep just about everyone happy. Whether you fly fish, spin, or bait cast, there is, or at least was, a fish with your name on it!

Fish species on the Sol Duc include Fall and Summer Chinook, Winter and Summer Steelhead, Coho, Sockeye, and both resident and sea-run cutthroat trout. The Sol Duc River runs 78 miles from the Olympic Mountains and cuts Southwestward through the most spectacular scenery in Washington State. With a variety of access points, you'll be greeted by precipitous gulches and mossy rocks in vivid green tones set a fire by the angle of the sun.

Picture perfect moments around every corner. The river is a pleasure whether you're catching or not. Just to be there, to catch a glimpse of an ancient creature born of the gravelly riverbeds. Traveling their way through genetic imprinting, magnetic fields, the temperatures, and conditions of the earth, making a 70-mile journey into the unknown.

What is it that ensures a fish can find its way back to the place it was born? When I can't even find my way home without an app. An interesting factoid, scientists have discovered fish have ear stones called otoliths. These “otoliths” incorporate chemical elements from the water as the fish grow and move. Picture a growth band of a tree, with each ring recording a chemical map of where the fish has been, how long they stayed there, and how fast they grew. Scientific advances like this are pivotal in managing fish populations.

I have a deep concern and respect for the natural world, a curiosity for things we can and cannot explain. A desire to be a part of it all, to get my hands dirty and my mind clean. So, while we still can, I will travel my own way, finding places that provide an opportunity to get my line wet.

My most noteworthy experience would be a fantastic stay at the “Cabin on the Middle run” in Forks. (olympicpeninsulawaterfrontcabins.com) Easily accessible and found off 101, this well-appointed, clean and cozy cedar cabin boasts everything you need and more. For me it was the stocked kitchen and comfortable beds, topped off with a long hot shower. Though, I must admit we spent most of our time in the backyard. Our hosts and neighbors were so very friendly and helpful. Which isn't always the case when you're fishing in someone's backyard. We were rooted on and engaged in friendly conversations with guides floating by and neighbors on their decks. When I lost a huge dazzling Coho the echoes of disappointment hummed through the valley.

The comradery of fishing is something you'll never understand, until you feel it. Like a Folie à deux, are we driven by madness or passion and is there really a difference? Whatever it is, that makes us feel hyped up by each other's experiences, it is infectious and exhilarating. I desperately hope the rivers will return to a place where we can enjoy catching at least one fish. Not just for the fun, but also for the food. Nothing beats a filet from the river. I have become so spoiled by the flavor of a fresh catch, commercially sourced just doesn’t make the cut.

Make sure you check all regulations before heading out these days. Low returns have caused a system-wide closure in the Quillayute river system. This system includes the Sol Duc, Bogachiel, Calawah, Dickey, Sitkum Rivers and Thunder Creek.

As heartbreaking as these closures are, they are necessary to ensure that our rivers can support humans and the local ecosystem. I admit, a mix of resentment but also understanding that the system works to protect, preserve, and perpetuate fish and wildlife.

As a fisherwoman, my recreational opportunities are last in line and that is ok. Will this closure stop me from enjoying the beautiful Olympic rainforest and its awe-inspiring rivers? Never! I will plant my feet in the forest, hike to the waterfalls and sit my soul quietly by the river. Waiting my turn.

Let’s take a step back away from fishing for a moment, please. That may be sacrilegious, coming from a magazine that is on its face wholly dedicated to fishing. I mean it’s called Reel Life for Pete’s sake, the pun couldn’t be any more fishing related. Consider the experiences that we add to our core memories from our passion for life outside the concrete jungle.

The sights and sounds of places we’ve just experienced for the first time. Those times with friends and family. The sometimes-trivial outings that we build into our routines because we are outdoorsmen and outdoorswomen at our core. Being present at those times is crucial to our ability to take a deep breath and hit the reset button.

One of the most scenic drives I have ever experienced came from a trip along the Beartooth Highway in the heart of the Custer National Forest. It is one of those winding, nauseating, fear of height inducing drives that really make you appreciate the work of engineers.  The drive up the mountain is narrow. A two-lane highway with an unforgiving drop on one side of the road and an immovable rock face on the other.

It makes me wonder how folks drive campers, boats, or trailers up such a road. There are points along the drive where, if you’re on the outside lane, by peering out of the window, you’ll realize the full effect of the over 9,000-foot drop off the road, add another nearly 2,000 feet if you decide to get to the very top. It’s a road so treacherous, it is closed during the wintertime, and rightfully so.

In addition to these crystal-clear memories of peril, are the wondrous views that come from the observation point. The attraction looks around 360 degrees and has all the amenities you’d expect: a bathroom, parking, informational signs, and posters. But, more importantly, there are the sights. Mountains, that from below looked ominous, are now eye level and expansive. On a clear day, like the one we thankfully had when we made the journey, that allows you to see for miles.

The funny thing about being at the point is my lack of memory about the people or whatever else was going on. I know there were other cars in the parking lot and people walking around the trails, but I really can’t remember any of them. The calmness of the moment and realization of these breathtaking views is something I’ll keep with me. Even in these moments where modernization blends, crosses over, and cheapens the outdoor experience, it’s still easy to find ourselves appreciating what the outdoors can do for us.

Ok, let’s bring it back to fishing, just slightly. The Bighorn Canyon sits in the heart of the Crow Reservation in Montana’s eastern third of the state. The area is simply gorgeous. It doesn’t hurt that the area produces some of the highest quality trout you can find, as is the case in many of the Blue-Ribbon Montana waterways. For the hiking or ATV enthusiasts, you’ll want to stop at Pryor Mountain, as the Bighorn Canyon offers a few trails along the way, but the area primarily runs along the Bighorn River.  A few fishing trips with a close friend of mine will always draw me back to the area and the peacefulness I experienced, with one memory, particularly in mind.

Did I mention the canyon is incredible? It really cannot be understated the jagged edges of the cliffs and the deep red colors slowly fading to a subtle yet muted granite. The water is a pristine blue. Seemingly untouched and calm as glass. We nearly had the canyon to ourselves except for a few families enjoying the day on the water and some kids fishing from the dock.

My buddy in fact complimented the kids on their small bucket of fish they had accumulated and in turn, they gave him the lure they’d been using. It was a fun little exchange and was nice to see that kids can still be thoughtful. And of course, we used the lure and caught some of our own! We put my boat in the water and didn’t travel too far from the dock, maybe a few hundred yards into a nice rocky hole that was loaded with bass.

We trolled around slowly to different bays within the river for a few hours and continued to pull out solid sized fish. The kind of fish that makes you appreciate being outdoors with a consistent bite and decent weight behind them. All the while, talking about work, family, plans, and all the other things you’d expect to visit about. It was a fishing trip I’ll remember fondly because of the time with a valued friend and the opportunity for breathtaking views. It was also memorable due to a trailer tire popping and me driving on the axle for who knows how many miles, but that’s a story for a different time.

Let’s not mistake the vivid memories from our time appreciating the tranquility of the outdoors as more meaningful than the opportunities outside we capitalize on through the routine of our lives. For me, those instances take shape in the form of an activity as easy as walking my dog. He’s a hunting dog by trade and at 7 years old is still full of energy and prey drive. Tracking anything and everything is still a large part of his world, even if the hunting season is a few short months. Those other 9 months of the year he’s relegated to leashed walks around the hardware store or some off-leash trails and parks around town. Taking the dog out for a walk is not unique or special.

Perhaps you reading this have a dog yourself. You probably do the same routine part of your day as I do mine. Get up, go to work, come home, spend time with your family, and take the dog on an evening walk. Rinse, repeat. I would challenge you to be present in those moments outside if you aren’t already. I’m guilty of putting on a podcast during a walk or listening to music like anybody else. But I’ve tried to make a habit of putting these things aside if I’ve got the opportunity. A leashed walk down the street? Fine, music’s not a big deal provided you’re on the sidewalk. The hardware store? Well, we’re here buying stuff so it’s not much of an outing for the dog, but it is a chance for socialization and to break up his day. What about a hike on a trail or a stroll on some public land?

Those are the outings I try to be cognizant of. Quiet. A passing hello to another person briefly, and then back to isolation. Although built into the day-to-day of everyday life, something as simple as a walk with the dog can bring a calmness and recognition for everything we experience beyond our home’s front door or the office. Why drown out the peaceful silence when in that moment?